“Will Cati be all right without me?”
I considered the question. I didn’t know for sure, but I could make a reasonable estimate.
“She’s not quite alive, but neither is she dead. She’s some kind of in between,” I said. “Her body won’t need food or water until her soul returns. The bigger problem is whether anyone will find her.”
Belis crouched next to her sister, smoothing the hair back from her face. “This is a sacred place, full of old magic. It cannot be found easily.”
“I found it,” I said, then backtracked, realising this was unhelpful. “But I was following the trace of a dying soul. Most mortals probably couldn’t, unless they were led here or followed a trail. Humans, anyway. I make no promises on wolves or lynx.”
Belis nodded and bent to whisper something in her sister’s ear. I looked away, not wanting to overhear. I glanced down to where Dormath was prancing at my feet. The other dogs had vanished when I had been splintered from myself. Only Dormath, caught in the spell beside me, had become a mortal dog.
“I’ll leave my dog here,” I said to Belis. “He can watch over her. He’s run with the Wild Hunt enough times that wolves are common prey for him. She’ll be safe with him.”
Belis eyed Dormath suspiciously, not moving from her sister’s side.
“He won’t be a danger to her? I thought the Cwn Annwn hunted humans.”
“We hunt humansouls,” I said, offended at her tone, “to guide them to the next world, to keep this one safe. Dormath won’t touch your sister.”
Belis looked down at her sister then stood up. “All right, if you think it’s best.”
I lifted Dormath’s head towards me and looked into his big brown eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, pup.” He pressed his face against mine and yipped. “The road’s no place for you. Guard the girl for me.” He looked offended and stalked off, flopping down in the shade of the trees.
I turned, trying to ignore the prickling sensation in my eyes.Belis was standing behind me, holding a pair of boots in her hand.
“These are Cati’s.” She held them out to me. “They should fit you better than my mother’s. Gods know she won’t be needing them for a while. You can take my mother’s cloak, though, your tunic looks rather thin.’
I considered explaining to her that the fabric of my tunic was crafted by the finest fae weavers, that it was perfectly suited for running, being both strong and light, but in the end I took the boots from her and sat down to put them on. Belis gave me a pair of knobbly woollen socks. I pulled them on, then the boots, and she helped me with the laces. I felt blood rushing into my cheeks at the humiliation of being helped like a child and mumbled my thanks. She shrugged and helped me up. I took a test stroll around the clearing. Not too bad, though I still preferred to go barefoot.
I slung the cloak around my shoulders. It was warm and I immediately felt a little better. I had not recognised that I was cold. I would have to keep closer tabs on the demands of this human body. I looked up to see Belis hurrying around the clearing. She picked up a pair of leather bags from where they had been left underneath the trees and began filling them with items scattered in the grass. Most of what she packed seemed to be knives, but I also watched her gather a clinking pouch of coins, a handful of dried leaves and a few things from her mother’s pockets.
When she was done Belis came over to me and I stood up to meet her. The cloak slid from my shoulders and I caught it before it could fall. Belis reached out and pinned the cloak together. I looked down at my chest, admiring the golden brooch, carved into the shape of an oak leaf. A finer thing than I had expected to see in mortal hands.
“Another of my mother’s things,” Belis said. “A loan only. I want it back when we reach Annwn.”
I shrugged. It was a pretty thing but paltry when compared to the work of dwarven smiths.
She passed me one of the bags and I heaved it onto my back. Ithad looked light in her hands, but I could already feel the weight cutting a groove in my shoulders.
“Ready?” she asked. “Which way?”
I set my shoulders and turned so that the morning sun was warm on my back. “We go west.”
Belis Before
1
She is five years old and hiding from the commotion in her father’s hall. Women rush to and fro, bearing armfuls of clean linen and steaming cauldrons of hot water. The men lounge near the fireplace, singing old songs to drown out the queen’s screams. Her mother’s screams.
Boudica is in the next room, giving birth to the little brother or sister Belis has been asking for for as long as she can remember. All the other children have siblings; instant teammates, comrades in the endless scuffles in the courtyards and stables of the Great Hall in Icenorum. Belis remembers sitting on her mother’s lap, whining that she wanted a brother. Now she is huddled under the long table, eyes shut, hands pressed tightly over her ears, heart thumping in her chest so loudly she thinks it might crack her ribs.
Someone knocks on the tabletop and she blinks. Soft leather boots, spattered mud half hiding the intricate embroidery, stand before her, woollen trousers emerging from the tops. She recognises those boots. The legs bend and her father is crouching down in front of her, peering under the table. His smile is calm and soothing.
“What’s this, little acorn?” he asks. “Hiding like a hare run to ground? Come out, little leveret, there’s nothing to worry about.”
She stumbles forward and he reaches out strong arms to catchher as she trips. Straightening up, he balances her on his side and removes a handkerchief to clean the soot stains and tears from her cheeks.
“I’ve been looking for you for half the day, child,” he says. “You seemed to have vanished entirely in the commotion.”
